


Title Reign

by Moonsault, orphan_account



Series: Three Tres Bien Amigos [5]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Loss, Minor Injuries, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 15:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10415364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Moments from Kevin and Generico's title reign, from September to April.





	

It was Thanksgiving in the US, so there were no Ring of Honor shows. That meant the tag team champs were cooped up in their Montreal apartment and bickering over who’d left a red sock in the laundry and dyed all their underwear pink.

“No!” El Generico was saying, waving his hands emphatically. “No sock! Not Generico!”

“Well, it wasn’t me,” Kevin grumbled, holding up a pair of newly-pastel boxers and grimacing at them.

Generico snickered. “Cute,” he said. “Cute in pink.”

“Fantastic,” mumbled Kevin. “I should fucking kick you out on the street, you loser.”

“No loser,” said Generico proudly. “Champion.”

“Sami!” yelled Kevin, ignoring him to wave the boxers in Sami’s direction. “Is this your fault?”

Sami Zayn, non-champion, looked up from the book he was reading. “Is your underwear my fault? That’s an interesting question, Kevin.”

“Stop ganging up on me!” Kevin’s face was pinker than the boxers now. Behind him, Generico gurgled something about _cute_ again.

Sami looked at them both, sighed, and grabbed one of the many unpaid bills from the table to use as a bookmark. “We have to get out of here or we’re just going to argue all weekend,” he said, dropping the book on the table. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Generico looked intrigued; Kevin looked suspicious. “ _¿Dónde?_ ” Generico asked.

“I dunno.” Sami shrugged. “Let’s climb Mont-Royal. It’s a nice enough day.”

Kevin scowled, and for a moment Sami was afraid he was going to say something about how Sami apparently thought Kevin needed some more _exercise_. But then he shook his head and swung away to grab his coat.

The problem was, Sami thought as they walked up the street together toward the Mont-Royal park, that Kevin _could_ use the exercise. His knee had been bothering him lately, and he had a tendency to stay indoors on their rare days off and brood over slights and setbacks, his mood darkening steadily through the day. Maybe some sunlight would keep him from the worst of his gloom.

(When things got really bad, he would take it out on Sami and Generico, dragging them into bed for entire afternoons that left them all bruised and exhausted. Kevin would end up sleeping restlessly, looking sick and shaken. Sami hated the look of self-loathing on his sleeping face.

He hated even more how much he himself looked forward to those afternoons).

 _So,_ he thought, shaking himself out of the darkness and back into the bright autumn air. _So here we are, taking a walk in the sunlight like normal healthy adults._ Generico scampered ahead of them and a few people turned to stare at him. _Well, relatively normal._

The paths up the mountain were lined with trees erupting into fountains of scarlet and gold, the air full of the crisp scent of autumn, with the tang of faint decay under it. Leaves drifted down around them, red and yellow. Kevin caught a maple leaf out of the air and twirled the leaf between his fingers idly.

“Cold,” Generico said, his teeth chattering as he hopped up and down around them. _“Muy frío.”_

“You should have worn a heavier coat, you idiot,” Kevin grumbled. 

“Take mine,” Sami said, starting to shrug out of it, but Kevin’s hand landed heavy on his shoulder.

“Yours is too light too, you’ll just be cold then. Here.” Kevin dragged off his heavy coat and shoved it at Generico.

“Now _you’ll_ be cold,” Sami pointed out.

“I’m not all skin and bones like you two,” Kevin said. “I got some insulation.” His smile was a blade that could draw blood, but at least it was a smile. Sami wanted to protest, but Generico was hugging himself in the too-large coat and capering around as if it were the best present anyone had ever given him. Kevin’s smile softened as he watched him, and Sami didn’t have the heart to tell Generico to give it back.

They wandered up the winding trails together, heading for the summit. They got lost a few times and had to backtrack, arguing all the way, and there were times Sami thought they’d never make it, but eventually they emerged at the lookout. The city stretched out beneath them in a vast panorama, spangled with autumn color, with the sky like a bright blue china bowl above them.

“Like singing,” Generico announced at random, looking out at the city. He threw his arms around Kevin and Sami in turn, laughing. “ _Muy_ singing.” He broke into a twirl, spinning until he fell into a pile of leaves and emerged breathless, covered with twigs and bracken (“Hey, my fucking _coat,_ ” Kevin complained. “You’re gonna get slugs on it.” But he didn’t actually try to take it back).

Sami and Kevin finally settled down on a bench. Generico, as usual unable to sit still for long, was frolicking about making friends with every dog and most of the kids.

“Well, here we are,” said Kevin, scowling out at the skyline. “Are you happy now?”

Sami thought about it for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I am.”

“Oh,” said Kevin, and for a second he sounded startled and oddly young. Then he shook his head as if forcing himself back into his bad mood. “This is as good as it’s going to get for us, you know.” He waved a hand almost angrily at Generico, who was flat on his back with a golden retriever licking his laughing face. “The WWE wants its wrestlers to be fluent in English, and he’s not even fluent in _Spanish._ You’re a great wrestler, but you’re never going to get anyone’s attention wrestling dark matches here and there. And then there’s me.” He managed to pack an essay’s worth of venom into that one pronoun.

“You’re the best wrestler in the world,” Sami said quietly.

Kevin’s laugh was sad. “Sometimes I even believe that,” he said. “But I could be the best wrestler in _history_ and you know it would make no difference to the WWE. Not with _this._ ” 

He started to wave a hand at his body, and Sami caught it out of the air. 

“Then they’re idiots,” Sami said. “You’ll make them see. And if they’re terminally stupid--well, there are other places in the world we can all wrestle together.” With a rush of daring like the moment before a risky _tope con hilo,_ he touched his lips to Kevin’s knuckles, right there in the sunlit park filled with people. 

Kevin looked at Sami with something like wonder in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Generico came crashing into him, wrapping his coat around both of them and beaming at Sami: _We keep Kevin warm, we keep Kevin safe. See?_

“Dork,” Kevin grinned, batting at him. “I’m not cold.”

Generico crawled across Sami to sit down on his other side, humming under his breath, and they sat there silently for a moment, just looking out over the city.

Sami sat there and felt his friends on either side of him, the solid warmth of Kevin’s body and the wiry twitchy energy of Generico’s. Sometimes it felt like being caught between two dynamos, he thought. Or two magnets, positive and negative. Sometimes it felt like his body was a battleground between darkness and light; Kevin biting bloody ecstasy into his skin and Generico soothing kisses across the marks later. Like his life was a delicate top with razor edges, spinning implausibly on. It would all fall over someday, wouldn’t it? What would they do then?

“We are bridge when we come to it,” Generico said suddenly, putting an arm around Sami.

“Cross,” Sami corrected him gently.

“That too,” said Generico.

* * *

Sami knew the minute he landed hard on his knee and felt it buckle that it wasn’t good. He went down in a heap, clutching at it. Kenny Omega looked startled for a second, then shrugged and came forward to kick him. Sami tried to writhe away from the blow, managing to shift his body so the kick landed on his hip, but even that glancing impact sent daggers of pain through his knee. “Shit, shit, shit,” he heard himself hissing through his teeth. Omega wasn’t the kind of opponent who’d just go for a pin now, he’d beat him down for a while longer just to make a point. With a lurch, he managed to get to one knee, supporting his weight on his hands, and glared up at Omega, who was smiling.

“Game over,” Omega said pleasantly, and drew back his foot for another kick.

And then somehow Kevin was in the ring, in between the two of them, blocking Omega’s foot with his own body. “Ring the fucking bell!” he yelled. “He’s _hurt,_ all right? He can’t fight anymore!”

The bell rang and Omega shrugged as the ref held up his hand.

Sami felt a vague awareness that maybe he should be mad at Kevin for assuming he couldn’t wrestle, for costing him any chance at a win. But the fact was that he wasn’t sure he could stand, and was starting to wonder if he was going to be able to stay conscious at all.

“Shit,” Kevin muttered, bending over him, trying to help him to his feet. Sami tried to stand, and everything went dim and wavering as pain lanced through him. “Lean on me, idiot,” Kevin said.

“Your knee--”

“Okay, my knee isn’t great either,” Kevin snapped. “What of it? Between us we’ve got two good knees.” He tugged on Sami. “ _Lean.”_

With a gasp of relief, Sami leaned.

“Where the hell is that moron?” Kevin snarled, his voice thick with anger and tears. “Why won’t he come out and help, what’s wrong with him?”

Dizzy with pain, Sami tried to explain: “It’s not the right… time,” he managed. “If we’re here in the ring together, it’ll…” Suddenly he didn’t know how the sentence should end. “It’s just not right,” he stammered.

“Fuck both of you,” Kevin whispered under his breath as he helped Sami out of the ring, helped him limp up the ramp. “You’re both fucking weirdos, I don’t know why I put up with you, I can’t stand you, I can’t stand seeing you hurt, don’t be hurt, Sami, _please_ don’t hurt anymore.”

Sami wished he could promise Kevin that, but it didn’t seem possible.

It didn’t seem possible at all.

* * *

They finally made it to the back and Generico was there the second they went through the curtain, leaping to Sami’s other side to support the rest of his weight. “ _You_ told me he was hurt bad, _you_ told me to get out there,” Kevin snarled at him. “So why didn’t you come too?”

“Hospital,” said Generico, ignoring him. “Doctor.”

“ _No,”_ gasped Sami, seeing their meagre savings vanish in his mind’s eye. “Not here. In Montreal.” 

“We’re taking Sami home!” Kevin yelled at the world in general. “We’re leaving now!”

“For God’s sake, at least wait until after your match,” Sami said. No way was he going to be responsible for Steen and Generico missing a title defense. “Three extra hours won’t make a difference, Kev.” He eased himself onto a chair, stifling a groan. Generico vanished, then re-appeared with ice. He sat down on the floor and held the ice to Sami’s knee in uncharacteristic silence and stillness. Sami could hear him sniffling quietly from time to time.

“Go out there and beat those bastards,” Sami said to Kevin, who was doing something between looming and hovering. It would have looked almost comical except that his eyes were red and he kept rubbing at his nose.

“Right,” Kevin said, making a valiant effort to assemble a vicious, brutal expression from the worried wreckage of his face. “We’ll beat those motherfuckers and we’ll all go home with our title belts again.”

Sami watched his friends head out to the ring. _Our title belts._ How gently and casually Kevin and Generico both assumed he had anything to do with them. Never mind. Someday he’d have his own championship, solid and real--maybe in a team with Kevin, maybe in a team with Generico.

Maybe his own? That was harder to imagine. But it could happen, he thought, smiling to himself despite the throbbing pain in his knee. This was a world that had El Generico in it, after all.

It was a world in which anything at all could happen.

* * *

The car hit a pothole and jolted; Sami tried to bite back a hiss of pain. “Sorry,” Kevin said over his shoulder. “These fucking roads suck.”

“Home soon,” Generico said. “Home soon, Sami.”

The car was warm and Sami was growing sleepy, lying down in the back seat. The tag team titles had been placed on the floor where he could reach out and touch them, as if his friends thought he would take some comfort in it.

“Good friends,” he mumbled. _“Bon amis. Bien amigos.”_

Sami let his hand brush up against the shining metal, listened to Kevin and Generico talking quietly, and dozed all the way back to Montreal.

* * *

“Soup, Sami!” 

Sami pried his eyes open to find Generico smiling in front of him, holding a steaming bowl. Sami took it with some trepidation--Generico’s cooking was… _inventive_ at best, a strange mix of Mexican, Syrian, and mainstream Canadian flavors. Sometimes it was tasty. 

And sometimes it was yogurt-habanero poutine.

This time, Sami discovered to his relief after a spoonful, was one of the tastier attempts. It appeared to be a chicken noodle soup with lentils and cilantro. “You shouldn’t be here with me,” he said between slurps. “You should be in Indianapolis with Kevin, wrestling.”

Generico looked blank. “Sami needs me,” he said.

“Kevin needs you too,” Sami said, then felt guilty when Generico went into a frenzy of fidgeting, as if tugged back and forth by invisible wires. “Hey, it’s okay, relax,” he said.

 _“Estoy preocupado y no sé qué hacer,”_ Generico said, looking distressed, but he rolled his shoulders and shook his hands as if throwing off his cares, then smiled at Sami. “ _No problemo,”_ he announced.

“Promise me you’ll go back for the next show,” Sami said. “If you don’t defend the titles, it’ll look bad. You might be able to get away with it once, but people aren’t going to accept that you stayed home to take care of me.”

“Mm,” Generico said, frowning. “Okay. Promise.”

Sami finished the soup. “ _Gracias,”_ he said.

Generico beamed at him and whisked the bowl away.

“What are your plans for tonight?” Sami asked with a yawn after a distant symphony of dramatic dish-clattering and splashing came to an end and Generico re-appeared at his bedside.

“Miss Kevin,” Generico said.

“Oh.” Sami thought about it. “Can I join you?”

Generico laughed softly and scrambled into bed with him. “Always,” he whispered into Sami’s hair.

* * *

“We’ve beaten the Wolves twice already,” Kevin said. “We’ve got their number, don’t worry your pretty little pumpkin head about it.”

Sami rolled his eyes as Generico started to giggle something about _pretty pumpkins._ Sometimes it was hard to have a serious conversation with Generico around. “I don’t like not being there,” he said.

“You’re not gonna wrestle, your knee’s still not healed up all the way.” Kevin crossed his arms and looked belligerent. “Stay here and rest, I’m not lugging your worthless ass all over Pennsylvania.” 

“Pretty _punk_ pumpkin,” Generico announced, popping every P and clearly enjoying himself.

“I can’t even watch your match live,” Sami said. “Tape delay sucks.”

“But we’re gonna be on tv,” Kevin said gleefully. “From the old ECW venue and everything. It’ll be cool. And soon you’ll be wrestling there too.” Without warning, he pressed a quick kiss to Sami’s forehead. “Rest up. We’ll come home and bring the title belts back with us and we’ll all celebrate together.”

“Perfect pretty punk pumpkin,” Generico said, smiling at him.

And the Ring of Honor tag team champions walked out the door and headed for Philadelphia.

* * *

The apartment was eerily quiet without Generico’s energy and Kevin’s complaints. Sami spent the day bored and frustrated, reading predictions online about the night’s match against the American Wolves, getting seethingly angry on his friends’ behalf and then having to take a break to cool down. By the time evening came, he was worn out. The days were finally getting longer as spring arrived, and he sat and watched the twilight shadows lengthen across the wall like stretching fingers, trying not to worry. Eventually he slipped into an uneasy doze, broken by twinges from his knee.

He woke without any warning, without any transition at all, sobbing. A wave of loss and despair seemed to break over him and he was drowned in it, he didn’t know what to do, there was nothing _to_ do, there was nothing but anguish and grief. He couldn’t think, he could only feel. He couldn’t breathe. 

His knee hurt.

His knee hurt.

He realized he was kneeling on the pavement outside, that somehow he had bolted from the apartment and started running. Running as hard as he could, heedless of the pain, as if somehow he could be there in time. If he could just _be there--_

He gasped and tried to struggle to his feet again, but his leg gave out and he went to his hands and knees. With a strange dizzy clarity he saw that there was a little plot of earth in front of him, blooming with daffodils and narcissus. 

He wasn’t there. _He wasn’t there._

Sami dug his hands into the cold dirt as if he could somehow stop the world from spinning, just keep everything from moving forward, and knew that when Kevin and Generico came home without the titles Kevin would sleep on the couch, would not let them touch him, would not let them comfort him. There would be no comfort anymore.

Generico’s sorrow and his own echoed back and forth across all the empty miles.


End file.
